Chapter 26 #2
Easton pushes out a heavy breath. “I can talk until I’m blue in the face, but at the end of the day, you’re going to do whatever you think is right for you, little brother. I can only hope that you make the right decision.”
Rocco nods slowly, thoughtfully. “Yeah. I just know it’s time for me to stop being scared and follow where my gut leads me.”
“Hopefully, your gut doesn’t lead you to the unemployment line,” Oliver mutters, and Rocco smacks the back of his head.
On a laugh, Easton looks across the park.
His face instantly lights up. “Holy shit! There’s my girl!
” he shouts when he finally notices Alba with her group of friends across the way.
“Babe! Babe!” He waves an arm in the air.
Without a glance back, he’s out of his seat and running to meet up with his wife.
When Alba sees him, she runs and leaps into his arms. He catches her, spinning her around before they promptly start making out.
Rocco chuckles. “That guy is a fucking goner. Whipped, I tell you.”
Staring in that direction, my eyes catch Jules’s again. I’m sitting over here, salivating over her like a dumbass with zero self-control. Meanwhile, she glares long and hard at me before dismissively looking away again.
Take a hint, loser. She doesn’t like you. Especially not after last night.
Why is it I have no common sense when it comes to that woman?
My mind goes back to mistake number one—telling Jules I care about her.
I should have kept my cards close to my chest. It’s just that, in that still, quiet living room as we were sitting alone in the dark, I felt like I could let my guard down and be real with her for once.
But all I did was give her ammunition. Now I’m holding my breath, waiting to see how she’ll use those bullets against me.
Oliver points his chin over to that side of the park. “Hey. Isn’t that Jules?”
“Yeah,” I mumble bitterly, taking a gulp from my bottle of ginger ale.
“Aren’t you gonna go say ‘hi’?” He stares at me, clearly confused.
I grab a wing and gnaw on it violently. “Nah. I’m giving her space.” The piece of chicken I’m eating tastes like cardboard. I slather it with honey mustard sauce. That doesn’t help.
Oliver’s eyebrow jerks upward. “You’re giving her space? The day before your wedding?”
When I say nothing, Rocco shakes his head, scrunching up a napkin and throwing it at me. “Look, Oliver. There’s something we need to tell you.”
“What?” our youngest brother asks cluelessly.
I sit there, forcing myself to eat while Rocco basically spills all my business. He tells Oliver that my upcoming nuptials are fake, that Jules and I are getting married with less than pure intentions. Big mouth. I thought he promised to keep this between us.
I don’t try to stop him, though. At this point, I’ll take any words of wisdom I can get. Even from my youngest brother.
But I don’t get wisdom. Instead, Oliver leans across the table and shoves my shoulder.
“Again, I drove eight hours for this?!” he barks.
“Sorry,” I mumble.
“So, that’s why you’ve been looking constipated all day,” he muses with a look of disgust on his face.
“This whole fake marriage thing with Jules is hard,” I complain pathetically.
Rocco shrugs. “Pretending to be in a relationship with a hot chick who’s a little bit crazy. What’s so hard about that? Sounds like a good time to me.”
I kick him under the table. “Call my fiancée ‘hot’ one more time,” I dare him. “As a matter of fact, call her ‘crazy’.” I push my sleeves back, ready to scrap.
He rolls his eyes. “Simmer down, Rocky Balboa. The question stands—why are you acting like this is some sort of burden? Having Jules as a fake fiancée sounds like a hell of a lot of fun.”
He doesn’t get it. Hell, I don’t get it.
“Because I always want to kiss her.” I grunt. “And when she’s not around, I get this itchy feeling under my skin. And I feel cranky when she’s away from me for too long. I think something’s wrong with me.”
Rocco side-eyes me like I’m stupid. He starts laughing. “Sounds like you’re falling in love with her, doofus.”
I choke, almost swallowing the entire chicken bone. “In love? That’s ridiculous. I’m not falling in love.”
Rocco tilts his head and mumbles to Oliver, “You should see him when he’s around her. Pathetic, pathetic, pathetic.”
Could my brothers be right about my feelings for Jules? Could I be falling for her? Nah. Impossible…right?
Oliver just grins, looking thoroughly entertained. “You’re an idiot about women. You really should stick with sports management.”
“I think I should,” I mumble.
At least in my line of work, there are conventions that we follow, there are rules that we respect. I’m given a regulations handbook and I obey it to the letter. With this fake relationship, though? It seems that I’ve torn up my own rulebook, and now, I’m paying the price.
Oliver shakes his head at what must be a befuddled expression on my face. “Jeez. Haven’t you been married before? What’s the big deal?”
“Sure, I’ve been married before. But I’ve never really felt like this,” I admit.
“What is that supposed to mean?” Rocco questions.
“What I had with Cynthia, that was more of a partnership. It was efficient, practical, it made sense. Hell, that relationship felt more like a business relationship than the one I’m about to enter into. With Jules, everything is chaotic, unpredictable.”
Passionate.
Exciting.
Heart-pounding.
Julissa Mei Lannister is a whole disaster.
She’s constantly misplacing her keys. Half the time, she forgets to make the bed.
She’s turned my ensuite bathroom upside down with her hairbrushes and her makeup and her strange beauty gadgets all over the counter.
There are T-shirt sketches all over my house. Jules is a tornado in human form.
Yet somehow, even her clutter makes me happy. Every mark of her presence makes me feel more alive, less alone. And it’s all confusing the hell out of me.
Now that Jules has come and turned my world upside down, I don’t know who I am anymore. My entire identity is crumbling.
She and I had a well-laid plan. I would know; I typed up the iron-clad contract myself. I only forgot the most critical thing. I forgot that feelings don’t follow rules. Feelings don’t give a damn about the clauses of a fucking contract.
I drop my head into my hands. “This wasn’t supposed to happen…”
Between stealing glances at Jules across the park, I sit here and miserably sip my ginger ale. I half-listen to my brothers talking about sports, while trying to categorize my emotions like I might organize player endorsement opportunities.
But I’m quickly learning that none of my work experience is helping in my personal mess. It doesn’t matter how organized and strategic I am.
My brain just needs to shut the fuck up. Because I can’t start getting emotional here. I have to be mechanical about this marriage thing. Detached. Impersonal. Catching feelings will only make everything more complicated for me. And I can’t do complications.
But when my stare travels back in the direction of my fiancée, I see the tall, muscle-bound fucker who’s now standing at her side. That’s when I know it’s too late to keep my emotions out of the picture. Because the jealous rage that swells inside my chest is instant and it’s intense.
I can’t see the man’s face from this angle. All I see is his refrigerator-sized shoulders and his backward baseball cap. He holds out a platter and Jules and her friends help themselves to whatever it is he’s offering them.
He seems to be laying on the charm extra thick. The women are all in stitches, laughing uproariously at what he’s saying. And I don’t fucking like the way Jules smiles at him, especially since she’s been denying me her smile today.
I reach my breaking point when the man holds some sort of food to her lips and she leans in to take a bite.
I know I’m under a rage spell, because before I can even process my thoughts, I’m rising from the bench, unable to take my eyes off my woman.
My woman?! Okay, we’ll deal with that wayward thought later. Right now, I just need to get over there and break that shit up.
Alba catches sight of me as I approach. She aims her massive smile in my direction from where she’s hanging off of Easton’s arm.
“Lincoln!” She waves me over. “Lincoln, you remember Reid Robinson? We all went to high school together. You were both in the same class, weren’t you? Did you know he’s a firefighter now?”
Okay, Alba. One question at a time.
Do I remember Reid Robinson? How the fuck could I forget? I hated that guy—and his band of idiot brothers, too. And the fact that he’s the one here flirting with my almost-wife makes me even more ticked off.
Yet he turns and claps me on the shoulder like we were always the best of friends. “Lincoln Raines! My man!” He shoves a platter of fried wings at me. “Opening a new fast food joint in town. Firehouse Wings. Super spicy. Try a sample.”
I decline his offer. “You might poison me.”
“Never.” He grins. “Too many witnesses.”
Easton chuckles, chomping on his Firehouse Wings sample. Traitor. I hope it burns off his tongue.
Meanwhile, Jules steps up between Reid and me. She steals yet another sample from his tray, humming with contentment when she bites into it.
She’s trying to kill me. She’d be fully on-board with the idea of me popping a vein and dropping dead this very minute.
Reid offers her a charming smile that I’m tempted to punch right off his face. “I hear that you and the lovely Jules are getting married tomorrow?” he asks me.
I throw a glance at my fiancé. She stares back at me, annoyance dripping from her frigid expression.
Still, I feel my chest puff out with male pride and possessiveness as I wrap an arm around her waist. “You heard right,” I tell Reid.
Jules goes stiff at my touch. I’m half-afraid she’s going to use her kickboxing moves on me. But then I remember—her trust fund. Right. That’s the only reason she tolerates me.
He tips his head in a little bow. “Congratulations to you both.”
“Whatever, Robinson.” That guy isn’t fooling me.
“Damn. So hostile.” He chuckles. Then he turns his grin on the group. “Enjoy the rest of the festival, ladies.”
He holds up a fist to Easton. The two of them fist bump as Jules steals another sample from his tray. She groans around a bite.
Looking pleased with himself, he leans in by my ear. “I think your fiancée likes my meat, Raines.”
I growl. “Keep your little drumstick far away from my woman. Or I’ll snap it off with my bare hands and toss it in an air fryer.”
Chuckling, Reid walks off to go hawk his chicken wings to someone else.
Easton leads Alba over to our table. The other giggly bridesmaids get distracted, taking dessert samples from another vendor who’s handing them out. That leaves Jules and me standing face to face for the first time since last night.
Now, she aims her full annoyance at me.
She’s still pissed. After the way I acted last night, I don’t blame her.
“Was the caveman scene necessary?” she grinds out, licking the last of the sauce off her fingers.
My eyes follow the movement of her tongue as it circles her sticky index finger. “It was. He was getting way too close to my future wife,” I say unapologetically.
She guns me down with her eyeballs. “Your fake future wife,” she tries to correct me.
I loop my arm around her waist, pulling her up against me right there in the middle of the crowd. “The marriage license looks legit to me.”
She tries to pull out of my arms but I discreetly gesture to the people milling around us. I lean in and whisper by her ear. “Clause number three, darling. Public displays of affection are necessary.”
As long as this marriage of convenience plan is in effect, I get to touch her. That’s part of our deal. I plan to make full use of this privilege.
I lean in, lowering my mouth to her ear, trusting that she won’t kick me in the balls, at the very least, because we’re surrounded by bystanders. “And you don’t get to flirt with other men as long as we’re together.”
She scoffs out loud. “Your fragile little ego will be happy to know that I have zero interest in flirting with any man. I’m focused on what’s important in my life. Namely, doing what it takes to get this deal done.”
Jules wants me for one reason and one reason alone. Getting access to her trust fund. If not for that, she wouldn’t want to spend even one second around me.
I nod. “So, we’re on the same page.”
“Are we?” she questions. A glimmer of insecurity flickers across her eyes like a flash of lightning.
Somehow, I know exactly what she’s getting at. She wants to know if I’ll reciprocate the loyalty I’m demanding of her. I feel this desire to put her mind at ease.
“Of course we’re on the same page.” Cupping her cheeks in my palms, my lips drop closer. “Jules, I haven’t even looked at another woman ever since I slid that first fake diamond onto your finger. I have no interest in other women. No other woman can hold my attention like you do, darling.”
She peeks up at me from under her dark lashes in a way that almost makes me fall to my knees. Gosh—vulnerability looks good on her.
“Kick rocks with all that bullshit, Lincoln. If all of that is true, how come you never answered my dating app request?” The second she asks the question, her bulging eyes make it clear she wishes she could take it back.
Too late now, baby.
I shrug a shoulder, all nonchalance. “I thought you were trolling me. I thought you were trying to get under my skin. As much as I wanted to accept the match, I couldn’t.”
“Why?” she asks, spitting the word out.
“A man has his pride, Julissa,” I say roughly.
A part of me just couldn’t believe that Jules was seriously interested in me. She and I are polar opposites, for crying out loud. But now the world thinks she’s mine. And I plan to reap every benefit of that fallacy.
Half a second before my lips cover hers, I add, “But if it makes you feel any better, you should know that I’ve been jerking it to the thought of you ever since that night.”
Her mouth drops open in shock. Before she can speak, I kiss her silly.
I kiss her hard.
I kiss her so every man here will know that she’s mine.
I kiss her till her knees are weak and her body is sagging against my own. That’s when I gently pull away.
She looks at me with dazed, hooded eyes, whispering so only I can hear. “I hate you…”
I smirk and I lie. “You know what? I don’t fucking care.”
I straighten the lopsided plastic crown on her head then I playfully flick the tip of her nose.
“See you at the altar tomorrow, Troublemaker.”